


I Would Give Anything To Feel Alive

by SallyLovette



Series: The Iceman [1]
Category: Lackadaisy (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-19 21:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 16,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15518784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallyLovette/pseuds/SallyLovette
Summary: Mordecai is a product of hardship, someone once young and innocent molded into something deadly and precise- a weapon. And Rocky knows what he’s capable of.But a weapon isn’t all he is. Sometimes he can be amenable. Rocky’s good at bringing out that side of him- that’s another thing he knows.





	1. Crystal Blue

~~~~He and Rocky are pretty dissimilar. That’s an understatement, in fact, a hell of an understatement.

They are standing side by side in the Lackadaisy speakeasy. Mordecai has never seen Rocky dressed in a dark suit. It almost makes him look distinguished, bringing out the crystal blue of his eyes. He looks different in it. Dashing. But it’s still Rocky. They know each other. They are notoriously opposite. He can’t just say that- “you look handsome.” No. Out of the question.

Already, Rocky has noticed him looking at him and is smiling about it. It was by accident, certainly, but somehow, it seems, he’s impressed the one and only, the impossible-to-impress Mordecai.

Mordecai reaches out and adjusts Rocky’s already perfect collar, smooths the front of his jacket, which was already smooth, and lets his hand linger for a moment. Then he steps back, but the air is different between them.

Then Mordecai feels Rocky’s hands at his collar, pretending to fix it, just like he’d done with his, and he is smiling a wide toothy smile of the sort that makes it easy to see it is funny to him, a joke, but also, they are eye to eye now, and there is nowhere to go but forward, so they kiss, and then sneak out together, and that is the start of that. And it wasn’t supposed to be anything, but things don’t always work out the way Mordecai wants them to.

And really, it wasn’t anything at first.

 

They don’t see much of each other, but Rocky likes Mordecai all right, other than when he makes fun of his clothes or physique or demeanor or choice of breakfast entree or cousin or pattern of speech or table manners or place of employment, but he has pretty thick skin, so none of that actually matters. (When he made Miss M cry, that, now, that mattered, mattered a great deal. But she’d said forget it, so he had- more or less, anyway.) And so, getting it on with Mordecai, just once, wasn’t  _too_ much of a stretch. Mordecai is all right. He really is. And Rocky has heard stories too- he’d almost forgotten- and is sure there has to be much more to the cat then he will ever know. But he’s okay wih not knowing. Because it doesn’t really matter. They don’t see much of each other. And Mordecai is, really, all right. 

There’s certainly no denying he’s attractive. 

One thing he does know, though he doesn’t quite know why, is that Mordecai has never really liked him. He supposes the exact reason could be practically anything- according to his aunt he has quite a long list and a wide variety of substandard qualities- and is in fact, more than likely several things. So it was confusing, at first, when Mordecai came on to him the other night. He was more than happy to oblige, once he actually figured out what was going on, but it was  a surprise nonetheless.

 

The second time is weird. It is Rocky who initiates it. And they only make out a little. Mordecai ends it preemptively by stuffing his hat between their faces, cutting off Rocky’s air for a moment, and taking the split second to slip away. Rocky watches him go, dark tail flicking, adjusting his clothes, with neither regrets nor resentment. A kiss was more than he’d expected and more than he is happy with.

And it was a really good kiss.


	2. Extension of Hospitality

“So, you don’t like me?”

He is trying to understand, that’s all, and he feels like Mordecai is dodging the issue.

“No.” Mordecai puts his teacup down to massage his eyes. “I’m not saying that.” 

“Well, you owe me some kind of explanation. Have you considered the far-fetched possibility that maybe I like you, and what you have to say means something to me?” Mordecai doesn’t say anything, so he smiles a little and prompts, “I mean, if you really didn’t like me, you would kill me. The fact that you haven’t yet is just encouraging.”

”Well, perhaps that’s simply a mistake on my part.” 

“Aw, you wouldn’t hurt me. You know why?”

Mordecai looks at him in exasperation, anticipating some inane answer that would tempt him, for the thousandth time, to kill him. But he doesn’t, because what Rocky says next is, regrettably, the truth. 

“It’s because you do like me. Well, I like you too.” His smile is like the moon- beautiful and bright, a perfect crescent, the one sliver of something lovely in the dark, perpetual midnight that is Mordecai’s life. “But if the problem is that you don’t want to feel stifled, well, we don’t have to go steady, if that’s not what you want. I just like the idea that we can be a little more than enemies sometimes.” 

“So... enemies with benefits?” Mordecai’s quip is drier than a desert. Rocky simply grins more. 

“Yeah. You get it.”

Mordecai can only watch in silent horror as Rocky tips a teacup of mostly-syrup into his mouth, then wipes his mouth with his sleeve and extends the same hand.

“So? What do you say?”

Mordecai cuts his eyes between Rocky’s hand and his face before standing up and gathering his jacket, noticing the smile slide from Rocky’s face as a result of his cold reply. 

“You may consider my decision to spare your life part of an extension of hospitality not afforded to many. Our relationship, the exact nature of which I have yet to decide, will be kept a secret, lest you actually want to die-” 

“I told you, that scar was from an accident.” But Rocky is smiling again, smiling fit to burst. Mordecai goes quickly on in an attempt to banish the joy from his face.

“-and if you don’t mind your manners around me it won’t matter whether you want to die or not.”  

“I don’t. And I will. Er, mind my manners, that is. Really, I’m a gentleman and a scholar, at heart.”

“So you understand when I say ‘secret.’”

“Naturally.” 

“And when I say there will be dire consequences should you offend me in any way.”

“It’ll never happen.” Rocky leans forward, staring in adulation at the man who’s already regretting giving him this shot.

But “good,” is all he says. Then, “and no more funny things in my coffee.” 

“Of course.”


	3. Mistakes

It sucks sometimes, being the bad guy.  

He is looking at that smile, that familiar smile, but there is something different this time. It’s defensive, the smile of a cornered man, a man with nowhere to go. 

“What are you doing here” are the first words out of Mordecai’s mouth, and they are like the start of something terrible.

Rocky visibly attempts to come up with some kind of answer and fails, as the boy at his side is just staring at Mordecai, no doubt recognizing him. Moredcai hears him whisper, “isn’t that the guy from the cafe?” And Rocky tells him “shush, Freckle,” without looking away from Mordecai for even a second.

Rocky knows how bad this is. Freckle doesn’t. Not yet.

Rocky says, “oh, just, uhhh, picking my cousin up. From his date.” 

“Really?” Mordecai raises a brow. “Where is the young lady?” 

“She, uhhh, went home?” 

“Where?” 

“Oh, you know...” Rocky trails off. His story is too feeble. This is obviously no place for a date.  

“I thought the young man was involved with Miss Pepper of St. Louis. Am I to understand he is unfaithful? How surprising. Whatever would she think?”

Before Rocky can speak, Calvin’s eyes widen and he cries, “no! It wasn’t a date. We have business here.”

Rocky is unable to shut him up in time. He mutters, “dammit.” Mordecai smiles. 

“What sort of business?”

And no answer is needed, because really, there’s only one sort of business one does in Defiance. 

“Now, look,” Rocky starts, but Mordecai cuts him off.

“I warned you not to come here.” His tone is harsh, like a parent reprimanding a child. This is how, with surprise, Rocky realizes Mordecai doesn’t want to have to do this any more than they do. “Why did you have to go and put me in this position? I told you to stay away!”

Rocky steels his nerve and with his retort it almost feels like one of their old arguments about the news or the coffee or last night’s rendezvous. “How can I? Little Daisy needs me. Miss M needs me! I have to do this just as much as you do.” 

“No. You could have listened to me. You could have quit.” 

“You know I couldn’t.” 

“Well, then, I hope you’re happy. Because now I’ll have to live with having killed you, you insufferable... you ridiculous... you...”

“I don’t get it,” Calvin whispers, tugging Rocky’s sleeve. “I thought you two were friends. Why can’t he just pretend he never saw us?” 

“That’s a good question, Freckle.” Rocky takes on a tone he rarely does. “Why can’t he?”

Mordecai growls. “It’s a matter of work ethic. And appearances. They’ll kill me if they find out I let you go.” 

“So you’d rather kill us?” Rocky holds his gaze, challenging him. Mordecai hesitates. Then he steps forward and extends a hand. 

“Give him to me.” He is referring to Freckle. “I’ll take his life and spare yours. But you’ll have to get out of here quickl-”

But Rocky reacts in a way Mordecai doesn’t expect him to, yanking Freckle by the wrist behind his back, shielding him, and retreating. “No!” 

Mordecai frowns. “What do you mean, no? I’m giving you an out here. Just let me-” 

“Oh, just shut up, you detestable, unfeeling-”

Rocky is angry. He is angry that Mordecai thinks so little of him that he expects him to be willing to make that trade. Mordecai backpedals. 

“Wait- no, I-” 

“Just shoot us already! Or are you planning on standing here all ni-”

BANG. BANG.

And Mordecai is down, because while hidden behind Rocky’s back Calvin was able to draw his gun, aim, and fire. And Rocky is staring down at him, and Calvin is pulling Rocky’s arm, pulling him away, because the shots were loud, and Mordecai’s assosciates are coming, and Mordecai is already getting up, and if they don’t manage to disappear they are going to die.

So disappear they do.


	4. Messenger Boy

“Mordecai!”

Mordecai turned, startled, to see Rocky running up to him. “Rocky?” 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Rocky stopped in front of him, gripped his hand, smiling at his blatantly horrified expression. “I missed you.” 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“What? We’re just talking.” 

“No.” 

“Aww, c’mon. I know you missed me too.” He began to pull Mordecai in the direction of Little Daisy, across the street. “Come inside a minute.”

Mordecai resisted. “Certainly not.” 

“How come?”

“We can’t be seen. Have you completely lost your mind?” 

“Then let’s meet up later.” Rocky refused to be brushed off. “Just give me the where and when. Please.” 

“For the love of- get off!”

He pulled away and stalked off. Glancing back over his shoulder, he could see Rocky darting back across the street, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a car. He must have run outside the instant he saw Mordecai from the cafe window. 

Mordecai sighed. He signaled a passing stranger- a kid in a sweater vest, carrying a newspaper. 

“Young man, if I may stop you for a moment.” 

“Oh. Hi.” The kid had big, round eyes. Mordecai spared them a glance as he scribbled something into his memo book, then tore the sheet out and pressed it into the stranger’s hand along with some money. “Bring this to the man in the window there.”

The kid followed Mordecai’s gaze to Little Daisy, were Rocky could be seen pouring syrup into a cup. “Oh. You mean Rocky?”

But when he looked again, Mordecai was already gone.

Obligingly, Calvin brought the note to his cousin. 

“What’s it say?” he asked curiously. Rocky skimmed the note, then shrugged, stuffing it into his shirt. 

“From a friend,” he evaded. “Ah! The paper. What do I owe you?”

“Oh, uh-” 

“Sit down. Take a load off. You eat breakfast yet?” He twisted around in his seat. “Oh, Miss Pepper!”

She had approached them upon spying Calvin. “Good morning, handsome.” She winked at him and set a glass down. “Your favorite.”

Calvin blushed profusely, failing to meet her gaze. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime.”

  

*

 

Leaves crunch under their feet as they run. 

“I thought he was a friend of yours!” Calvin hisses to Rocky, who is still holding his hand. “He’s one of them?” 

“Shhh! You want them to find us?” 

“He was going to kill us.” 

“That’s his job.” 

“But-” 

“Shh!” 

“But why would he kill-” 

“Freckle.” Rocky stops. His hands are on Calvin’s shoulders. “It’s complicated. Just drop it.” 

Freckle’s eyes are wide. He’s never seen this side of his cousin before. “You love him.” 

“No, Freckle.” 

“Yes, you do! Otherwise-” 

“Freckle, come on. You know your cousin doesn’t have time for that kind of thing. A vigilante lifestyle doesn’t facilitate romance.” 

Calvin had begun to smile. “You’re in love!” 

Rocky grimaces and pushes Calvin into a ditch. As he yelps in alarm, Rocky shushes him again, then slides down next to him. They can rest there for a short time.

After a minute of catching his breath, Calvin whispers, “I shot your boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I can see how one might presume-” 

“No, I mean I’m sorry I shot him.” 

“Oh. Well.” Rocky sinks back against the dirt and rocks, collecting his thoughts. “Obviously I would have preferred if you hadn’t, but I suppose there was no other option. There’s no need to feel guilty, though, in case you were wondering. He’ll be perfectly fine. Made of steel, that one. Probably hunting us down as we speak.” 

“Oh.” Calvin hesitates. “Should we run?” 

“In a minute.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Just thinking.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Tell you what?” 

“That you had a boyfriend.” 

A silence. “It was supposed to be a secret.” 

Softly. “I wouldn’t have told anyone.” 

With a smile, unseen in the dark. “I know. Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know next time.” In truth, Rocky doesn’t trust Calvin to keep his mouth shut, but he wouldn’t offend his cousin by telling him so. He stands up. “Let’s go. I have mentally devised a route to the car that won’t get us caught.” 

“Okay.” 

“And remember- lips zipped.” He looks Calvin in the eye. “Understand?”

Calvin smiles at him in a way he rarely does. Crosses his heart- like a kindergartner. “I promise.” 

They make it to the car.

 

Mordecai is bleeding, and they are laughing at him. He should feel lucky, he knows, that they find it so funny. Suspicion is the furthest thing from their minds. 

“All right,” he attempts to sober them, “all right. Did you see which way they went?” 

“Non.” Another stroke of luck. “Aww, lookit you. Blood all over. Gonna be moping the rest of the night- have to deal with that, ehh, but still, haha! Very funny.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Mordecai feels numb and tired. “Let’s go.” 

“Do not fret, peekon. We will bandage your arm. And when we find those enemies of our employer, we will kill them.” 

“Very slowly.” 

“And very funny.” 

Mordecai feels something he cannot explain. It isn’t quite fear- not for himself, at least. But they are waiting for his response. He can’t let on.

So “charming” is all he says, and then they go.


	5. Blood

Mordecai has placed the bullets into a jar. He stares at them. They are spotlessly clean, as are his clothes. He doesn’t abide bloodstains, not ever. It’s just another of the many things, as a result of his career, that he has to deal with, but deal with it he does. It’s fine. Anyway, he likes cleaning. It helps him think.

He reminds himself that he is incredibly lucky. He doesn’t feel like it, but he knows it’s true, because, after last night, both he and Rocky are somehow still alive.

But, he reminds himself, why should he care? Rocky is just Rocky. One way or another, their little affair will end. It doesn’t matter how. So what is he worried about? 

What Mordecai resents is how easy Rocky could make things if he really wanted. He could quit, but for whatever reason, he simply won’t, and that stubborn decision is the main reason Mordecai is stuck with this wretched dilemma. Doesn’t Rocky know he’s just trying to protect him? How can he hope to succeed if the foolish boy keeps throwing himself into harm’s way- into Mordecai’s own path of destruction? It’s just inconsiderate.

Sometimes he thinks it would be easier to just kill him now and be done with it. But he won’t— not until he has to.

 

*

 

Rocky is sleeping. Zib shakes him awake. “Kid. Quittin’ time.” 

Rocky sits up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “What time is it?” 

“Almost four.”

Rocky drops his hands. “Four? How long was I asleep?”

“'Bout an hour. No big. You looked like you needed it.” 

“An hour? Oh, hell!” Rocky startles Zib by crawling clumsily over him to get to his violin case. “I gotta get Calvin- I’m his ride home.” 

“Easy!” Zib shoves him off. “And your cousin, he went off with Miss Pepper.” 

“What? When?” Rocky scrambles to his feet. “I gotta find them.” He leaps from the stage and lands running. “See you tomorrow!”

 

*

 

Rocky drives to the college. He wonders what on earth has gotten into his cousin. Doesn’t he realize Aunt Nina will skin them both if he isn’t home by morning? 

As he suspected, they’re in Miss Pepper’s room. He is surprised he remembers the way. The last time he was here... well, there’s a lot he can’t remember. 

The door creaks open at his touch. The looks on their faces are priceless. “Evening, McMurray, Miss Pepper.” 

“Rocky!” Ivy hisses, her expression morphing from surprise to anger. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I—” 

“Get in here! And shut the door!” 

He does so, smiling, hat in hand. “I know I must be interrupting—” 

“Ya think?” 

“—but it’s cutting it a little close, McMurray, if I may say so.”

Ivy snorted. “Since when do you, of all people, have reservations about cutting it close?” 

“Only when it can be avoided. Freckle,” he prompts, because his cousin, who hasn’t spoken a word, hasn’t caught on yet. “The time.” 

Freckle looks at the clock and the color drains from his face. “Oh, my god.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” Rocky opens the door. “Shall we?”

Calvin picks up his hat. “Ivy, I’m so sorry.” 

“What?” She is visibly upset. “You have to leave? Now?” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you at Little Daisy.” 

“But—”

But Calvin is already out the door, and Rocky winks at her, donning his hat with an “au revoir.” 

 

In the car, Rocky fills the silence with words in the way that he does. 

“It’s a mighty cute little crush you’ve got, McMurray, but just keep in mind we’re on thin ice, despite any false sense of security my perpetually easygoing demeanor may provide you with. I don’t have to tell you how rarely I boss you around, but I was under the impression that we had an understanding regarding your aunt and the necessity of discretion. Keeping your love life under wraps seems prudent too. I mean, can you imagine what she’d say?” 

“I know,” Calvin says softly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I’m not the reprimanding type. Just think of this conversation as a reminder... along with this.”

He passes Calvin a paper. Calvin takes it, not needing to guess what it is. “You’ve already given me three.” 

“Right you are. I think my drawing skills are improving, don’t you?” 

Calvin has unfolded the note. “There’s more blood in this one.” 

“That would be on account of...” Rocky falters. “...the china marker.” 

“China marker?” 

“Ehh, friend of mine has a couple. They’re red, so. Y’know. Blood. Since, uh, he knows I draw... he was kind enough to spare me one.” Rocky is blushing. Calvin smiles and almost says something, but at that moment Rocky slams the brakes and he has to hang on to his seat to avoid being thrown into the windshield. “Home sweet home! Quiet on those stairs, now. And next time you want to indulge yourself on a date, I’d highly recommend the daytime hours.” Rocky smiles at Calvin. Calvin leans in and kisses his cheek without warning. Rocky shoves him off. “All right, all right. Save it for that girl of yours.” 

“I love you, Rocky.” 

“Calvin.” Rocky feels like he’s being punished.

“And I’m glad you found someone who can make you happy.” 

He shoves his cousin right in the face. “Can you just go, god damn you?” 

Calvin slips out of the truck and into the house without a sound. Rocky wipes his cheek, hating how perfect his cousin is. He doesn’t deserve that kind of love.


	6. Daybreak

Rocky is playing his violin in the park. It is early. He didn’t sleep after dropping Calvin off; he hadn’t felt like it. He plays Amazing Grace, and several passers-by drop money into his violin case. 

Someone stops in front of him. Rocky doesn’t stop playing, even as he lifts his gaze curiously. Then his face lights up.  _“Boker tov,”_ he says.

“That remains to be seen.” Mordecai looks impeccable as always, and his collar is up to shield his face, not that anyone here will likely recognize him. “Do you have a moment?” 

“For you, always.” 

“Come along, then.” Mordecai begins to walk. Rocky stows the violin in its case and hurries after him. 

“Are we going to eat?” 

“Yes, we can dip into your beggar fund.” 

“I was only out here for an hour.” He falls in pace beside him, grinning. “How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine.” 

“Good.” Rocky slips his hand into the crook of Mordecai’s elbow. “We can walk like this.” 

“Fine, but this is no date, mind. We have to discuss a serious matter.”

 

 

When the waitress asks Rocky what he wants and he answers “pancakes,” Mordecai says “pancakes” at the same time, just to prove a point. The waitress giggles. Rocky thinks it’s funny, too. His smile is like the sun. “I like it when you tell jokes,” he says once the woman has left. “It makes me think there’s some good in you yet.” 

“A thorough misjudgement.” 

“I never misjudge. I’m incredibly perceptive.” As he says this he puts his elbow into his saucer, upsetting his coffee cup, and Mordecai watches in amusement as he swears under his breath and attempts clean it. 

Mordecai says, “I came incredibly close to doing something I would have regretted.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Killing you.” 

“This again?” Rocky frowns, adding cream and sugar to his mostly-empty cup to the point where Mordecai has to marvel. “You can’t kill me.” 

“I think three nights ago makes a pretty solid case against that statement.” 

“No, it doesn’t, because I’m still here. You couldn’t do it.” 

“It’s not that I couldn’t, we merely got lucky. We may not be so lucky next time.” 

Rocky pulls a face. “Why is this the only thing you ever want to talk about?”

Mordecai’s voice rises. “Because it’s serious and it’s your life on the line and you don’t even seem to care! Why are you so adamant not to face simple facts?” 

“You’re the one avoiding the facts! You couldn’t kill me because you care about me and you don’t want me to die, let alone be the cause of it. From my candid perspective, you give yourself too much credit thinking you would ever even be capable.” 

“You think I’m incapable?” Mordecai is seething. “Is that it? So the fact that you’re sitting across from me now, able to say something so categorically ludicrous, is a result not of mercy but of sheer icompetence? You think I wouldn’t be able to kill you if I tried?”

Rocky thinks about it, fiddling with the teaspoon. “Wait... no.” 

“No is right! When I was your age I had more murders under my belt than you’ve drunk liters of maple syrup and you know full well that that is indeed saying something!” 

“It’s good for the heart,” Rocky says because he knows it’s not true, and just as expected Mordecai practically shouts, 

_“No, it’s not!”_

Their entrees arrive. Rocky eats his pancakes from the inside out because he hasn’t used that one before and he knows Mordecai will just hate it, and he does. His eyes go wide, his tone one of horror. “What are you doing?” 

“Eating.” Rocky talks with his mouth full. “Anyway, you were saying something? Something about murder?” 

“Rocky.” Mordecai tries to control his volume. “I am going to have to kill you one day if you don’t vacate your position at Lackadaisy. And, honestly, at this point, I’m beginning to wonder if I actually will regret it.” 

“That’s mean.” 

“Well, you’re deliberately antagonizing me! Can you stop?” 

Rocky can, but he does not intend to, and by way of communicating this he puts a huge bite of pancake in his mouth, dry, and picks up the syrup pitcher to pour it directly into his mouth. Mordecai sees what he is about to do and grabs his wrist to stop him. A tense moment of silence passes between them wherein their eyes are locked, and Mordecai breaks it by hissing, “don’t.” 

“Let go.” 

“Drop the pitcher.” 

“Let go or I’ll just spit it out.” His words are muffled because his mouth is full. “I’ll spit them out. I swear to god I’ll do it.” 

“Don’t you dare.”

“Fine.”

Rocky opens his hand. The pitcher falls with a clatter onto the table, getting syrup on everything. Mordecai instantly rises. 

Adding insult to injury, Rocky spits out the pancakes and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. 

“I told you,” he says.

 

Mordecai is pulling him by the arm. Rocky is unresisting, though he does sigh a lot and roll his eyes. Mordecai is too angry to even notice him. “Like a child,” he mutters furiously. 

“I didn’t even do anything.”

“So obnoxious. And rude. Despicably rude.” He is speaking in fragments, and it just makes him madder. “See what you’ve done? Words fail me. I cannot begin to describe how angry you have made me!” 

“No need. As I mentioned earlier, I’m remarkably perceptive.”

Mordecai whirls around to look at him, stopping dead in the middle of the street, and it is only sheer luck that keeps anyone they know from seeing them. “Shut up.”

Rocky has brought the violin case up between them like a shield, though Mordecai still has his left wrist. He shuts up. 

“Are you going to quit or not?” Mordecai asks.

The immediacy with which Rocky shakes his head no does nothing to ease his temper, and he lets go of him, turns, and stalks off. A moment later, he is aware of Rocky pursuing him. He snaps, “stop following me.” 

“Mordecai.” 

“No.” 

“Mordecai.” 

Mordecai stops and turns around. “What?” 

“You still owe me an apology.”

Mordecai is speechless. “What?” 

“You tried to kill Calvin— you tried to trade his life for mine.” Rocky’s tone is soft. “How could you? He’s family— he’s the only family I have left.”

They stare at each other. People pass by them without sparing a glance. Then, quietly, Mordecai says, “I’m sorry.” He rembers now how Rocky had looked at him that night. He’d never seen him angry. He’d forgotten all about it. 

Rocky says, “I’m sorry, too.”

They stay like that, looking at each other, for a moment that seems to stretch on longer than it actually does. Then Rocky steps forward, and he and Mordecai are walking side-by-side, arm-in-arm again. And Rocky smiles. 

“I showed him that picture.” 

“The one of you being dismembered?” Mordecai doesn’t quite smile, but he is happier, somehow. “I can’t imagine he appreciated it.” 

“Of course he did. He’s Freckle.” Rocky turns his head, gazing at the shop windows. “I know you may not have a taste for fine art, but-” 

“On the contrary, I find it to be quite amenable at times, but fine art isn’t exactly where I would categorize your drawings. You should stick to the violin.” And now he really is smiling, and it lightens the load on Rocky’s heart just to see it. 

But all he says is, “If you say so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Boker tov” is Hebrew for “good morning,” according to tumblr


	7. Wishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends on a slight cliffhanger. I’ll have the rest up soon! Thanks for reading!

It starts with a kiss. One Mordecai isn’t prepared for. But he doesn’t have to be. He feels the impact of it, and that’s how it starts. 

“I’m just saying,” he was saying, “I prefer you in something more... subtle.” 

“But I love blue!” 

“Well, I like black.” 

“So wear black!” Rocky is laughing. “But don’t expect me to. This is my signature look- my style. If you really think I’m willing to give it up just for you, you’re crazy.” 

“Do it for yourself, then. You can’t go around looking like a circus clown for the rest of your life. Sooner or later you’ll need to learn to dress like a professional.” 

“I do look professional.” 

“You do not. You realize I’m embarrassed to be seen with you half the time?” 

Rocky rolls his eyes, tired of discussing this. “Some people like blue.” 

“Like who?” 

“I dunno- people.” 

“Well,” Mordecai says with a touch to Rocky’s shoulder that feels condescending, which Rocky hates to admit is rather typical of him, “just think about it.”

“How did we wind up on this topic again?” 

“We were discussing the possibility of your presence in the Marigold ballroom for purely recreational purposes.” 

“Oh, right. So, still a no-go, then?” He doesn’t entirely mind, but he thinks Mordecai might, so he tries to feign interest. 

“Not until you improve your wardrobe, to start with.”  

Rocky mumbles over the rim of his cup. “What’s so great about Marigold, anyway?” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“You should come visit Lackadaisy.” 

Mordecai looks at him like he just suggested he sign his own death warrant. “You’re kidding,” he repeats. And Rocky smiles. 

“Yeah, I’m kidding.”

Mordecai sighs deeply, picking up his own cup, which is still entirely full and has long since gone cold. “Though I suppose it is rather fruitless. Things have been very tense lately.” 

“You’re telling me. I gotta show you this new scar I got. You’ll lose it, I swear.” 

Mordecai grimaces. “That sounds ghastly. Luckily, I doubt we’ll have time.” A silence ensues wherein he stares into his cup. “What are we even doing anymore,” he says after a moment. “This is nothing like it used to be. We haven’t even been intimate in... a long time.” 

Rocky shrugs, fiddling with his napkin. “I don’t mind.” 

“No.” Mordecai frowns. “I suppose you don’t. But then what’s the point?” 

“I’m sure we could find time somehow, if you really want,” Rocky suggests. Mordecai does. But he doesn’t say so, only frowns more deeply. 

“It’s no use. We’ll be found out. These brief meet-ups are all we can safely manage.” 

“It’s not a safe game we’re playing, my friend. There’s always something more that can be done.” 

“Well, as soon as I determine what that is, I’ll inform you. Until then, I’m afraid I must go.” 

Rocky watches him stand, wishing there was something he could say to fix things. “Same time tomorrow?” 

“If there’s a red ribbon on the park bench.” 

“The south one?” 

“The one by the Rosebush.” 

“I’ll be sure to look.” Rocky smiles. “Oh, and Mordecai?” 

“What?” 

They are far from anyone who might know them in the quiet, no-name, insufferably respectable restaurant they’d chosen for that evening, so Rocky gives him a kiss- their first in weeks. And Mordecai appreciates it. 

Then he is gone. 

 

*

 

Rocky’s heart is hammering. He looks at Mordecai in a way he never has before, like he’s done something badly wrong, when really all he had been trying to do was something nice. Mordecai typically isn’t nice. Rocky tells him this all the time. He’d thought, what’s the harm in trying it, just this once? But now his heart is hammering, too. And he doesn’t understand. 

He attempts, “I thought of you instantly, the moment I saw it. I actually turned and went back.” 

Rocky says, “It’s a present. You got me a present.” 

“Well? Are you going to take it?”

Rocky takes the pastry box. Opens it. It’s a mille crepe cake- a blue one, at that. He is stunned, thought not altogether in a bad way. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he marvels, and Mordecai relaxes ever so slightly. “Where did you get it?” 

“The french bakery near the museum- Le Chat Souriant.” He fights a smile. It reminded me so much of you, he thinks. Rocky has brought the cake close to his face to sniff it. He looks just like a child. 

“I feel like I can’t even eat this,” he is saying. “It’s like a masterpiece. And it’s from you.”

Without warning and narrowly avoiding dropping the box, he throws his arms around a surprised Mordecai, smiling widely. “Thank you! I love it.” 

“It was nothing.” Mordecai can’t resist smiling, just a little, though it quickly fades as he adds, “though do be sure to eat it. It’s such a travesty when good food goes to waste.” 

“Are you kidding? I’m going to keep this forever.” 

“No, that’s-” 

“I’ll put it with my poems.” Before Mordecai can further protest, he lets him go, rifling in his pockets. “I wrote you another one, by the way.” 

“Is it mildly coherent this time?” 

“It’s about the river.” 

“Again? I don’t see why you keep showing me these. You know I don’t like them. I can’t understand them.” 

“You don’t have to understand them to appreciate them.” 

Mordecai doesn’t argue. He falters, then takes Rocky’s hand. “Are you all right?” 

“Huh?” Rocky looks at him, surprised, and smiles. “What do you mean? I’m fine.” 

“You looked strange a moment ago.” 

“Ehh, I was just surprised, that’s all.” 

“I thought perhaps I had offended you in some way.” 

“Of course not.” 

“You’re sure?” They both know Mordecai isn’t great at this- correctly registering and interpreting social cues, that is- so Rocky reassures him patiently.

“I’m sure.”

And he feels bad because he’s lying, and Mordecai, who is typically so astute, has no way of being able to tell in this instance. Because love just isn’t his forte. So if something’s wrong, he can’t always tell.

He has come so far, though, and Rocky is proud if him for that. So his smile right now is mostly real. 

“I have to go.” 

“I know.” 

“I’ll see you later.” 

“Please don’t leave that thing to rot in your house.”

Rocky smiles wider, because it’s just so terribly funny, and though he still has zero intentions of eating the cake (sentiment aside, he can’t stand crepes, and he’s sure he’s mentioned this to Mordecai before but he tells himself he’s not the least bit annoyed to find out he hadn’t been listening), it’s true when he says, “oh, there’s very little chance of that.”

 

*

 

There’s a lot they don’t get about each other, but one thing Rocky knows about Mordecai is that, despite what he would have people think, he needs intimacy, and sometimes, when he doesn’t get it, it makes him colder, quieter. Rocky knows he misses it. And he’s been meaning to do something about it for a while now. He’d been waiting for a cue from Mordecai, but sometime between their first time and now, Rocky has figured out that Mordecai is clueless in the matter of love, and that it if he doesn’t do something, Mordecai will just let things remain this way, and deny being upset, as if he can banish his ability to feel simply by resenting it. It befuddles Mordecai, sometimes, and always to Rocky’s amusement, when the lack of intimacy between them doesn’t bother Rocky as much. Mordecai would have expected the opposite, would have preferred it, perhaps, but things are the way they are, all wishing aside. And Rocky knows they aren’t going to change.

So he goes to Marigold.

He doesn’t wear blue. It’s really the only thing he can do to try and blend in. He quickly realizes he made the right choice because the crowd of stuffy, upper-class alcoholics is not easy to blend into and if he hadn’t dressed exactly so then he wouldn’t have attracted the small group of admirers that is currently the only thing keeping him from getting the sort of sideways glances that he knows will end in his getting bounced. They are young men and women, his age, but wealthier, and they hang onto his words and stare at his face and sometimes touch him, but never suspect a thing. The only problem is that he can’t shake them off. If he does, someone will be sure to notice he doesn’t belong there. 

So how he is supposed to find Mordecai eludes him, for the moment.

Slowly, the sensation of being surrounded and trapped starts to come on, and his palms begin to sweat. And he’s not sure, even with his best efforts, how long it will be before even the shallowest of his new, smitten acquaintences catch on to the fact he’s not one of them. He tries to remember things Mordecai taught him about standing and speaking and behaving like an adult, but it was always so much to remember and he never really paid attention, and the moment he gives himself away comes when a girl asks him a tricky question and he tries to evade with a joke and suddenly they’re all looking at him with different emotions than a moment before.

Then one of them asks, “What are you drinking?”

And he can do nothing but smile helplessly and say, “nothing.” 

And that’s when they start to think he’s weird.

And, half to his relief, half to his dismay, it doesn’t deter them at all.


	8. Deteriorating

Blood drips from his nose and he can taste it on his tongue, salty and warm. It’s a real brawl. His opponent has him pinned down on a table. He’s going to lose, has already lost, but his smile is uncontrollable. 

“Easy on the suit. I’m told it’s quite nice.” 

“Shut up!” The cat shakes him. “And you better wipe that look of your gob before I smack it off. What the hell were you doing, coming on to my girl?” 

“I swear, we were just talking.” 

“You got some nerve cracking jokes.”

“You’ll have to excuse me.” Rocky continues to smile despite the warning. “Anyway, you have the situation rather turned around. Your little lady there was just telling me how she prefers a man with a taste for literature. She didnt happen to mention her boyfriend was nearby... or, uh, that he existed. I suppose this is all just a big misundersta-” 

Another violent shake, then a blow to the cheek, and Rocky feels himself dragged to the floor. He braces himself for another hit, but before it happens the cat is pulled off him. He looks up to see one of his acquaintances hit him in the face. Rocky tries to crawl away, but someone seizes his middle, lifting him clean off the floor. His feet kick uselessly in the air. Security has arrived.

“All right,” shouts the guard. With the one arm not holding Rocky, he attempts to separate the others. “All right! Break it up!” 

Someone jumps the guard from behind. Another guard attempts to pull that person off. It’s a tangle of arms and legs and confusion, men throwing punches and young women screaming. The one Rocky had made the mistaking of kissing runs forward to cling to his lapels. 

“It wasn’t his fault!” she cries. “Put him down!” 

“Myrtle!” A young man pulls her away from him. “Don’t talk to that scum.” 

“Hey!” Rocky seizes his arm. “Don’t grab people!” 

“Why, you-” 

“Enough!” 

It’s Asa.

At his side is Mordecai. 

“This is an expensive place you kids are tussling in,” Asa says, taking his cigar out of his mouth. “Why don’t you take it outside?”

A chorus of complaints is his response.

“Save it!” Asa barks. “Go on now. You can try again tomorrow. But first-” he ashes his cigar, glancing at the overturned table and bloken glassware. “Whose father am I billing for damages?”

Everyone points at Rocky. Rocky smiles and quips, “Oh, boy, he won’t be happy,” but it’s a cleverer joke than they realize, so nobody laughs. Especially not Mordecai. Who has yet to meet Rocky’s gaze.

Asa studies Rocky silently for a moment. “Don’t I know you?” he asks.

Rocky’s smile fades; he shakes his head. “No.”

It’s silent. Then Asa says, “you can put him down now, Gaear.”

The security guard sets Rocky down. Rocky dusts himself off. “Much obliged. You’re the night manager, aren’t you? Mr. Sweet, is it? Might I say it’s a lovely little place you’re running?” He turns on the charm.

“Well, you know.” Asa appears amused. “One does one’s best. What’s your name, son?” 

“Huh? Oh. Rocky.”  

“Is that short for something?” Asa grins, and Rocky’s confusion mounts, but he doesn’t let on, forcing a smile instead.

“In fact, it is! How very astute.”

He doesn’t elaborate and another awkward silence falls. Out of the corner of his eye, Rocky sees Mordecai lower his face into his palm.

Asa claps a hand on the back of Rocky’s neck.  

“Come sit with me,” he says. 

“Oh. Uhhh-” 

“Come on. I’ll buy you a few drinks. We’ll talk.” 

“Uhhhhh.” In a rare moment, words fail him; he glances at his friends, who seem just as much at a loss as he is. Something soft brushes his other side, and he turns to see Mordecai there, just inches away. Rocky’s heart flutters. Sure, Mordecai is still refusing to look directly at him. But he’s closer to him now than he has been all night.

So he lets Asa lead him along.

They sit at the tables. Rocky is reluctant at first, not certain what game Asa is playing, but soon he decides to just go with it. He can hold his own at cards, anyhow, even if he hadn’t exactly planned on playing tonight. 

When Asa orders another round of drinks, Rocky tries to turn him down. 

“I’m not thirsty,” he says. “Besides, I’ve already had a lot.” 

“What’s one more?” Asa chuckles. “You’re no lightweight, are you?” 

Rocky doesn’t know what to do. He’s never touched a drop in his life. But people are looking at him, watching, waiting, so he shrugs with a smile and lifts the glass in a cheers gesture. “No, sir.” 

And he drinks it.

 

*

 

Mordecai watches him deteriorate with a steady ache in his chest. He knows what this is. And there’s nothing he can do. 

Rocky’s head is in his hand. He’s dozing off. And he’s only had a little- three and counting. 

People are beginning to filter out as the daylight hours start to approach. Asa leans over to speak to Mordecai. 

“He’s their errand boy. Mitzi brought him around one time- him and one other. Cute kid. Smaller.” 

“I thought he was just their violinist.” Mordecai is weary. He doesn’t want to do this, but he doesn’t have a choice. 

“He gets his hands dirty, too. You seen that scar on his face? I need you to find him a room. I don’t know what I want to do with him just yet, but we can’t let him leave.” 

“But he’s so useless looking,” Mordecai says without mincing words. “Surely he’s of no importance. Must we really bother?” 

“Might as well. Anyway, he doesn’t look like he’s gonna offer much resistance. Just lock him in upstairs. Then you can call it a night. All right?” 

Mordecai tries not to be too gentle when he shakes Rocky awake- appearances and all that. “Get up.” 

Rocky blinks at him sleepily. “Mordecai...?” 

Mordecai pulls him to his feet. “No talking. Come with me.”


	9. Sorry

“What are you doing here?” Mordecai hisses, leading Rocky by the arm. Unsteady on his feet, Rocky doesn’t resist. 

“I wanted to see you.” 

“Well, you’ve made a fine mess of things.” 

“Where are we going?” 

Mordecai doesn’t answer. He shoves Rocky in front of him and presses the elevator button. As they wait, his eyes are cast down. He is thinking. 

Rocky crashes into him suddenly, knocking his glasses askew, throwing his arms around Mordecai’s neck. “Let’s dance,” he says. 

“Get off!”

Mordecai manages to open the gate and shove Rocky inside. Rocky falls, giggling, to the floor. Mordecai doesn’t attempt to help him up. He enters and presses the button. They begin to move, and suddenly they’re alone.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” Mordecai says, and something in his voice makes Rocky’s smile fade. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry means nothing.” 

“Sorry means sorry.” Rocks holds onto the rails to help himself stand up, but he still almost falls right back over again. “What is this?” 

“What? The elevator?” 

“Elevator?” 

“Have you never been in one before?” 

“No.”

“It’s a modern machine.” Mordecai swishes his tail, glancing around at the small, enclosed space. “I don’t like them much.” 

It’s silent for a moment. Then Rocky says, “You look nice.” 

“You look like a ruffian.” 

“Really?” Rocky looks down at himself. “But I put in so much work.” 

“You have blood on your collar.”

It was from the fight. Rocky attempts to rub it out of the fabric but only makes it worse. The elevator dings and they arrive at their floor. Mordecai takes his arm again, but since the hallway is dead, he can afford to do it gently this time. 

“Where are we going?” Rocky asks again, stumbling. 

“Almost there.” 

“You’re mad at me.” 

Again, Mordecai doesn’t answer. He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks one of the rooms. It’s nice- far nicer than anything Rocky’s ever had the fortune to see. He enters, smiling. 

“Ritzy. I like it. Your place is better, though.” 

“They’re much the same.” 

“If you say so. But why are we here?” He turns to see Mordecai just outside the threshold. 

“You are to stay here,” he says. 

Rocky’s heart starts to race. He still can’t think right. Damn those drinks... though he supposes he can see their appeal. 

Mordecai expects Rocky to say something like “why” or “I don’t want to,” but what he actually says is, “without you?” 

“Yes, without me.” 

“Why?” Rocky sits on the bed. “Do you have other work to do?”

“No, but...”

 There is a silence. Rocky is looking at him, innocent-eyed, waiting for an answer, but he doesn’t really have one. 

“...Do you want me to stay?” he finally asks. Rocky smiles. 

“That was the point of me coming here- to spend time with you.”

“But you’re not their guest. You’re a prisoner now.” Mordecai is annoyed- doesn’t he get it? Won’t he ever get it?

Rocky has stopped smiling and is looking at the floor. “It doesn’t matter,” he concludes after a while. “Anyway, I’d be less scared with you here.” 

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Mordecai’s voice rises unintentionally; he hesitates, checking both directions in the hallway, before slipping into the room and shutting the door. “You’re stuck here. Do you have any idea what they’re going to do to you?”  

“No. Do you?” 

Yes. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, he is silent, hat in hand, staring at the wall. 

“You never listen,” he says finally. “Why do you never listen?” 

He isn’t looking but he feels Rocky take his hand. 

“Come sit with me,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they fucked


	10. Called Into Question

Someone who maims and kills for a living, to whom the strict and perfect organization of his dresser drawers is far more dire a matter than the life of any man, can at times be subject to whispers and rumors of the sort that call into question his validity as a human being with a soul rather than some kind of evil incarnate (his last name, Heller, has never been a very great help with that). But as Rocky lies there with his head on Mordecai’s chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, he knows that evil is the furthest thing from what Mordecai really is. If life had been kinder to him, maybe others would know that, too. He’s a product of hardship, that’s all, someone once young and innocent molded by trials and suffering into something deadly and precise: a weapon. And Rocky knows what he’s capable of.

But a weapon isn’t all he is. Sometimes he can be amenable. Rocky’s good at bringing out that side of him- that’s another thing he knows. 

“I think I’m getting hungover.” 

“Mmm.” 

“My head hurts.” He shifts, nuzzling his face into his partner’s chest. “Mordecai.” 

“What.” 

“My head hurts.” 

“What do you want me to do about it?” Mordecai’s voice has taken on that quality- slow and soft, like molasses, like he’s just waking up. Almost unguarded- almost. 

“Take my mind off it.” 

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“You know.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“You don’t?” Rocky pushes himself up slightly so their eyes meet. He’s smiling. Mordecai frowns but doesn’t move. 

“Are you talking about...?” 

“Why not?” Rocky asks. “I want to. And it’s nice here.” A pause. “Don’t you want to?” 

Mordecai does. He always does. But he says, “the situation is hardly ideal. I can’t imagine either of us are in the mood.” 

“The way I see it—” Rocky rolls onto his back, closing his eyes— “we could both be dead tomorrow. But tonight, we have this room all to ourselves.”

Mordecai sits up, looking down at Rocky with a put-on expression of calmness even though his heart has started beating very fast. “I don’t know.” 

Rocky opens his eyes and smiles up at him. “I’ll behave if you do,” he says. “I’ll follow all your instructions. I won’t try to escape or anything. I know you’d never let them hurt me, anyway.” 

Mordecai hesitates. “I told you time and again: if you ever got in trouble with Marigold, as you now have, there would be very little I could do to save you.” 

“But you’ll try, won’t you?” 

“Of course I’ll try, but-”

Rocky sits up, cutting him off. “Then I feel safer already.”

Mordecai shakes his head, casting his gaze down. They’re inches apart, but he can’t bring himself to look at him, even as he feels Rocky’s whiskers brushing his own, making him flinch. “I want it to be true. But I’d be lying if I promised everything will be okay.” 

“Promise me.”  

“I can’t.” 

“Promise.” A kiss on the cheek makes Mordecai turn red, even as he scowls and says,

“What would be the point?” 

“It’d make me happy.” 

“Not for long.” 

“Happiness isn’t meant to last.” 

Mordecai finally gives in, if only as a result of exasperation. “I promise everything will be okay.” 

Rocky kisses him. It’s soft and sweet- like molasses, like just waking up. He is surprised at first, but in a moment he’s sure of himself, just as sure as he is in the eveyday act of firing at an enemy. The only difference with Rocky is that once it’s over, having been a success, he’s left with two emotions unfamiliar to him: satisfaction and guilt.

And he’s not certain which he hates more.

 

*

 

Mordecai has no sooner closed the door with a click than he finds himself flanked on either side by two of his least favorite people on earth. 

 _“Boker tov, petit hache,”_ Serafine says. Mordecai scowls his usual scowl as he tries to make the act of straightening his clothes seem like less of a nervous impulse than it actually is.

“Does everyone speak Hebrew now?” he grumbles.

“Only those who would befriend you, couyon.” Nico is too close to him. Mordecai steps toward the elevator. Like a pair of shadows, they follow. 

“We heard tell of a prisoner here at Maribel,” Serafine says.

“We are curious to see. Show us, where is he?” 

“Yes, and may we play with him?”

Mordecai doesn’t look at them. “I’m busy.” 

“So early? Did you even sleep?” 

Mordecai leaps a foot in the air as he feels Serafine pinch his side. 

“Or were you busy just now, too, with something not work related?”

He whirls around to give her his most withering look. “None of your business.” 

But she merely laughs, unthreatened, and she and her brother are still laughing when the elevator doors close, obscuring his burning face.


	11. Neuroses

For all the time he has known him, Calvin has never seen his cousin be in love. There were a few girls when they were kids, back in the good old days, but nothing serious, and most interactions Rocky had with them ended with a slap to the face or worse. And there weren’t any boys. Calvin supposes that’s just one more reason his mother can add to the long list titled “Why Rocky Is Never Going To Heaven.”

He stares at the letter in his lap. Rocky tried to keep his affair a secret, but Calvin isn’t stupid. He knows how to put two and two together. He was hurt Rocky hadn’t trusted him, and he supposes Rocky now realizes this. It’s the only explanation for the words he is reading. 

Dear Freckle, 

Date with four eyes at Marigold. Borrowed your daddy’s old suit. Will bring it back tomorrow. If not, am dead. If dead, please avenge.

Do you know any words that rhyme with brobdingnagian? 

Tell Ivy I said howdy

Please dont be mad I ~~robbed~~  borrowed from your attic

Xoxoxo

Rocky

Instead of actually spelling out Marigold, Rocky had drawn a flower. Next to the bit about Ivy he’d drawn a winky face. 

Calvin looks out the window. It’s sunrise. Rocky should be bringing his father’s suit back soon. Calvin sincerely hopes he doesn’t damage it, but since, again, he isn’t stupid, he knows better than to hold his breath.

 

*

 

When Rocky wakes up, the tipsiness from last night is gone. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, and there’s a slight ache in his head, but it’s nothing too bad. He’s had worse. 

Looking around, he remembers everything, and fear strikes him through. They’re going to kill him. He’d known it all along, but for whatever reason- because he was drunk, or because he was distracted- it hadn’t seemed important until now. Wide awake, he leaps to his feet and tries the door, but, as predicted, it’s locked. He wonders if all hotel rooms have outside locks. He doubts it. They must have sealed it some other how.

He goes around taking stock of what he has to work with. The sun is shining mid-morning light through the window. There is a bed, two chairs, an empty dresser, a large mirror, a lamp, a table, a closet, and a bathroom. There’s a painting on the wall above the bed. On the table is a notepad and pen.

He searches his pockets. They’re empty.

He double checks the room, but there’s nothing else to find- just a few dust bunnies under the rug.

 

*

 

Asa is on the phone.

Mordecai stands just outside his office, listening to him. Sometimes his hands, which have already done so much irreperable damage to both his own life and the lives of countless others that it is always hard to resist just a little bit more, itch to harm him. Aside from making a point of teasing Mordecai far past anything he is willing to tolerate, Asa keeps ordering him to hurt people he used to be friends with. He’d known, of course, exactly what he was in for when he started (except for Asa’s insurmountable habit of poking fun at Mordecai’s various neuroses purely for amusement, a development he hadn’t been pleased at all to discover but was slowly working on accepting) but rather than growing desensitized to the pain it causes him, as he’d promised himself he would, the guilt just keeps piling up, getting worse and worse. And it’s never been this bad before.

Asa, smiling behind his desk, cigar between his teeth, has ordered Mordecai to travel for work, and the trip is going to last at least a few days. It leaves him with very little idea how he is still to keep Rocky from harm, something he would have been hard pressed to find a way to do even if he wasn’t miles away. 

He has no choice.

He starts to walk, making an effort to think calming thoughts, but his mind keeps wandering to dark, dismal places, and it’s not long before he finds himself imagining what life will be like once Rocky is gone. Asa may even order Mordecai himself to do it. He can picture it now. Rocky will look at him with those bright blue eyes of his and probably won’t even be mad at him. He’ll just smile. Like an idiot. Which is why they’re in this mess to begin with. Then he’ll say something like, “I know there’s good in you yet. Don’t let this eat away at you. It’s going to be okay.”

Mordecai feels the unfamiliar sensation of his eyes stinging and hides himself behind a door, any door, and covers his face. Not even god is going to see him cry, not while there’s still a drop of conviction left in his body. Sinking down in the darkness, he swipes roughly at the tears, growling, “you idiot. What’s wrong with you?” 

It takes him a few seconds to calm down, at which time he realizes he’s shut himself inside a utility closet. He sighs and buries his face in his hands, hiding his sorrow from the world like a child hides from bullies.

He’s never felt this low before.

 

He lets himself into Rocky’s room, or, more accurately, the room he’s being kept in. Rocky has dragged all the bedding off the mattress onto the floor, where there’s a patch of sunlight, and is currently sprawled with a pen in his hand, notebook on his legs, and several sheets of paper in various states of torn or crumpled scattered all around him. He lifts his head when Mordecai enters. 

“There you are,” he says. “Thank god. It’s so boring without you.” 

“What have you done to the bed?” Mordecai is appalled, but Rocky shrugs. 

“I made a nest.” He smiles, extends his arms coyly. “Come join me.”

Mordecai sets his hat down on the table. “I have to leave.”

Rocky’s smile dissipates. “Leave?” 

“It’s work. I can’t avoid it. You’ll have to be on your own for a while.” 

Rocky stares at him, sitting up slowly. From his vantage point it’s clear to see Mordecai had just been crying. He’s never seen that happen before. “How long will you be gone?” 

“A few days.” Mordecai doesn’t look at him. “If you just keep your head down you should be fine.” 

“But you’re coming back?” 

“Of course. I just came to say...” He breaks off. Rocky blinks at him in confusion as he stares vacantly toward the ground, and then suddenly it clicks. This may very well be the last time they ever see each other. He’s come to say goodbye.

In an instant, Rocky has thrown himself into Mordecai’s embrace. “I’ll miss you.” 

Mordecai doesn’t say anything. He’s already closing himself off, refusing to let his emotions get to him, knowing it’s only a short matter of time before he’ll be forced to do so anyway. Once Rocky is dead there will be no point in loving him. It’ll just hurt, and hurt, and hurt. 

Rocky pulls back with a smile, looking less like a man staring death in the face and more like a smitten schoolboy, complete with his youthful face and big, bright blue eyes. “How ‘bout one last kiss for the road?” 

Mordecai hesitates, then nods, and they kiss, deeply and luxuriously, in a way that, with a train to catch in a matter of minutes, Mordecai can ill afford. But it doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t matter.

After what feels like a short time, Rocky pulls back, letting go of him. “Close your eyes,” he whispers in his ear. “I have a surprise for you.”

Mordecai shuts his eyes, listening to the sound of movement. “Another poem?” he guesses. 

“Close.”

Mordecai doesn’t even see it coming. One moment he is standing, eyes closed, waiting, like an imbecile. The next, he is facedown on the carpet, the back of his head warm with blood. He can’t see; his glasses were knocked off his face. He paws for them blindly as Rocky drops the lamp, throws a sheet over Mordecai’s head, and bolts for the door, which, Mordecai remembers, he hadn’t locked. He struggles to his feet, tearing the sheets off his head, but even after casting them aside he still can’t see without his glasses.

“Rocky!” He stumbles toward the door, arms outstretched, only to have it slammed in his face. He hears the key turn. Furious, he hammers the door with his fists. “Open this!” 

“Sorry, my friend.” Rocky’s voice is muffled from the other side of the wood, but Mordecai can hear the smile in his voice, can envision it perfectly. “Looks like you’re gonna miss your train. Maybe you can reschedule.”

Mordecai stops pounding. Suddenly, he’s smiling, just a little, just a tiny bit. “Very impressive.” 

“Aw, shucks.” 

“But you realize this isn’t over. I’ll pick the lock. You can’t escape.”

Silence replies to him. 

“Rocky,” Mordecai says. Then he frowns. “Rocky?”

The lock clicks again. The door swings open slowly, with a creak. Mordecai steps back, his eyes widening. They are little more than blurry shapes, but he’s astute enough to recognize his partners, the Savoys, by the potent smell of herbs and incense. And Nico is holding Rocky with both arms, one hand covering his mouth so he can scarcely breathe. 

Serafine’s voice skewers him like a knife. “Couyon,” she purrs, her curved outline relaxed against the doorframe. “Shouldn’t you be at the station?” 

“I was just on my way,” he answers coldly. His eyes cut to Rocky and Nico. 

“This is the one Asa told us about,” Nico says. “The Lackadaisy errand boy.” 

Rocky bites him. Nico doesn’t react other than to frown, as if more surprised than hurt. “Oww.”

“Isn’t it funny?” Serafine says, ignoring her brother, who is now trying to see how close he can get his fingers to Rocky’s mouth before he snaps his jaws shut. “I could have sworn this was the room you was in last night.” 

“I-” 

“Making love to some dangerous pretty boy you foun’.” She cracks a smirk that he can sense more than see. “And this whole time Nico an’ me thought you was straight as an arrow.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Mordecai vainly attempts. 

“Shut it.” But to his surprise, there is no malice in her tone, and the smirk in her voice is suddenly gone. “Let us in, and close the door. We have to talk.”


	12. Des Faveurs

Once the door is locked again, Nico drops Rocky gracelessly to the floor. Mordecai reaches down and drags him to his feet.

“You said you weren’t going to try anything,” he hisses to him. 

“I was drunk when I said that.” Rocky pulls his arm free. “As if you were gonna help me.” 

“I told you a thousand times not to come here!”  

“I did it for you! Just why the hell can’t you suppress the urge to kill people this one fucking time? Do I really mean so little to you?” 

“No, that’s not- I don’t-” Mordecai turns red, rendered speechless by the implication of something deeper than a casual affair. Seeing the look on his face, Rocky sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Look, I’m just saying-” 

“Hey!” Serafine cuts them off. “Shut up.” 

They both look at her. She nods at Rocky.  “Who are you?”

Rocky and Mordecai exchage glances. Mordecai nods, permitting him to introduce himself, so he does.

“I’m Rocky. I’m the violinist at Lackadaisy.” 

“Ahhh.” Serafine winks at her brother. “The violinist.” 

Rocky smiles unconvincingly. “No, really, I play the violin. I can show you.”

“Got a violin?”

“Well, not on me, but-” 

“How did you meet our _petit hache?”_  

“Huh?” 

“Him.” Nico nods to Mordecai, who looks daggers back at him. “We call him _petit hache_. You wan’ know why?” 

“No, he doesn’t,” Mordecai cuts in.

“That’s french, isn’t it?” Rocky asks curiously. 

“That’s not what we’re here to discuss.” Serafine tries to move things along, but her brother is endlessly amused by the now very uncomfortable Mordecai. 

“What does the slovak think of your new amour?” 

“Viktor is out of the picture.” 

“Viktor?” Rocky repeats astonishedly. “You mean you and him-” 

 _“No._ Shut up. Everyone shut up.” 

“Yes, shut up.” Serafine must be running out of patience, because she doesn’t mince words. “The fat man has ordered us to kill that one.” She points to Rocky, whose smile fades. Mordecai stares her down coldly. 

“So?”  

“So, _petit hache,”_ she repeats, seemingly in annoyance at his slowness, “we can help him.” 

“Help him.” Mordecai hopes his eyes communicate just how little he believes them.

“We have a bargain to offer.” 

“No. Whatever it is, no.” 

“You think this is some trick. What would we gain from it?” 

“So, what? You’re just going to disobey our boss? I don’t think his lenience towards the two of you will extend so far as to forgive that.” 

“You’re right about that,” Serafine says with a bitter look. “De boss man is agitated. We ask him, why so much trouble for a useless kitten? But he says to us, “that’s how it starts.” He suspect your chaton part of something bigger- something sinister, to bring Marigold crumbling down.” 

“That’s absurd.” He looks at Rocky. “Right?”

Rocky shakes his head, aghast. “Of course it’s absurd.” 

“Well, he is to die anyway,” Nico says.

“Unless-” Serafine nears Rocky, putting an arm around him while keeping her eyes, now smiling, on Mordecai. “You let us help. You love him, no?” 

“If I did,” Mordecai says coldly, pulling Rocky away from her, “it wouldn’t make me the slightest bit more inclined to accept- just the opposite, in fact.” 

“You don’ trus’ us?” 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“ _Mais_ , dat’s too bad. You have little choice. If you don’t wan’ to work with us, le chaton will die.” 

There is a brief silence. Mordecai can feel Rocky looking at him, but he doesn’t return his gaze. Finally, he says, “hypothetically. What’s my end of the bargain?” 

“We are friends, no? Friends do each other favors. We are showing good friendship, doing this thing for you.” 

“Ah, I see. And in the future, you will expect a show of friendship in return.” It’s clever, he admits it. “Quid pro quo.” 

She smiles. _“Des faveurs por des faveurs.”_

Mordecai thinks about it. Rocky says something to him that makes it clear he’s not on board with this. But it’s for his own good. 

He picks up his glasses. 

“I’ll be back in a few days. Don’t let me find out this was nothing but an elaborate joke.” 

“What?” Rocky’s voice rises in panic. “Wait!” He tries to follow Mordecai to the door, but is stopped by the twins’ arms around his shoulders, and Serafine tracing a claw down the side of his face.

“Don’ worry,” she purrs. “We won’ let aaaanyting happen to him.”


	13. The Good Stuff

Mordecai makes it to the station in time. As the train lurches forward and the landscape slides away outside the window, his thoughts begin to roll. Leaving Rocky under the care of the Savoys was a last ditch act, but he calculates (over and over in his head, allowing for even the most unforeseeable of events) that he can make it back before they have time to do any real, lasting damage. Two days. He can make it back in two days. Within that time, he swears to himself, he’ll think of a way to save Rocky. 

Because heaven knows the Savoys aren’t going to do it, no matter what they say.

 

*

 

Rocky watches the door close with a sinking feeling. The twins are looking at him. 

“So.” Nico is the first to break the silence. “How we gon’ do this?” 

“Easy,” Serafine says. “We need a different body in place of his. Another grey little kitten shouldn’t be too hard to find. Then we hide this one til _petit hache_ come back.” 

“You can’t just kill someone.” Rocky breaks free from them and steps back. “Can’t you just let me go?”

They’re silent a solid moment before they burst into laughter. As he watches them, his misgivings start to grow. 

They move him one room over. He isn’t sure why- something to do with being sneaky. He doesn’t trust them. They foiled his escape earlier. And they’re too good at this.

They lock him in.

He walks around the room. It seems to have been recently vacated, likely right after the occupants slept off last night’s little soiree. The bed is unmade and the ashtray is full. He walks over to it. By its side is a book of matches with just one left.

 

*

 

Nico and Serafine are standing in the hallway. As he lights a joint, she leafs through Rocky’s discarded poetry, snickering. “What de hell does he see in this guy?” 

“He is cute, no?” 

“Pshh.” 

“What if _le hache_ does not agree to our favor?” 

Serafine flips a page over. “He will have to. He made a deal. Anyway, he doesn’t even know what it is yet. Hell, we don’t even know what it is yet.” 

“True,” he agrees. “So, where we gon’ find this grey kitten we need?” 

“We’ll try the asylum first. There will be someone.” She frowns and looks up. “Smell that?” 

“It’s me. I’m smoking.” 

“No.” Her eyes turn wide. “Fire.” 

Nico follows her gaze and nearly drops his blunt at the sight of smoke pouring out from behind one of the hotel room doors. Rocky’s room.

“Do something!” Serafine seizes her brother, who springs into action. Holding the blunt in his mouth, he strides over and kicks the door down effortlessly. Smoke billows out. He coughs; he can’t see. 

“Fire!” 

Up and down the hallway, people are fleeing their rooms. They smelled the smoke and heard the shouts and their first instinct, of course, is self-preservation. Serafine directs them to the elevator, if shoving and yelling counts as direction.  

“Downstairs, everybody! Now!” 

Nico has found the source of the trouble. Rocky, who is currently cowering on the floor, had set fire to the mattress. The flames quickly lapped it up, then began to devour the ceiling and curtains. Slowly, it is now making its way towards the furniture. 

“You!” Nico is amazed. “You did this?” 

His shock is furthered when he realizes Rocky is grinning. 

“What? It’s cold in here. And I don’t have any blankets- they’re all on fire.” 

Nico tries to seize him, but, to his horror, he evades him by throwing himself beneath the flaming bed. 

“Hey! You crazy?”

Rocky makes it, unscathed, out from the other side and flees to the door. Knowing he won’t make it far with Serafine waiting for him, Nico sets about smothering the flames.

When Rocky practically falls over the threshold, he is like a ball of smoke and singed fur. Serafine spots him immediately, but she is far across the hall, ushering people out. 

“Hey!” 

He sees her. His lungs burn as he pulls himself to his feet, turns, and runs.

“Stop!” 

He’s going to make it to the stairs. Determined and ruthless, she pulls a knife from her belt and throws it. He falls, clutching his leg. Lying on the floor, his eyes turn wide when he sees her coming toward him, and he tries to scramble away, but it hurts, and his lungs are so full of smoke that he can scarcely breathe.

“Hey,” she says sharply. “Didn’ you heard me? I said stop.” 

The knife has pierced his calf. She kneels beside him, seizing his hair. “Stay still.”

With a single jerk the knife is free. 

“You have to listen when I say something. You wan’ to live, don’ you?” He doesn’t answer her. She presses the knife to his temple. “Don’ you trust me?” He tries to pull away, refusing to look at her, but she doesn’t let him go, just sighs. “You’re gonna make dis difficult, aren’t you?”

Nico joins them. His shirt has a small patch of flames that he simply brushes off upon noticing. The joint is still in his mouth. 

“Dis one,” he marvels, looking down at Rocky. “Dis one is mad.” He notices the blood flowing freely from the wound. “What you do to him?” 

“He almost get away.” 

“ _Mais_ , he won’ try it again.” 

“No.” Serafine stands, pulling Rocky along with her. “It is like you say. He needs someting.” 

“He needs someting, alright. Shrink, perhaps.” 

“No. Not a shrink.” She pushes Rocky towards him. “Watch him. I be right back.” 

Nico would have liked it if Rocky put up more of a fight, but whether due to the blood loss, the suffocating effects of the smoke, his sticklike physique, or any combination of those things, all the kicking and squirming he can do has no effect. “Maybe you are jus’ de violinist,” Nico says.

Soon, Serafine is back. In her hand is a needle. 

“This will make him calm,” she says. Rocky tries in vain to get away, the mere sight of the needle filling him with fresh terror. 

“No! Don’t!” he begs.

They ignore him. Their end of the bargain was to keep him safe, but exactly how was never established, so resorting to drugs seems as prudent a method as any.

She throws it away after injecting it. “We can give him more later, if he need.” 

“What was that? Not de good stuff?”

“We don’t got not’ing else.”

“If you say.” Nico glances out of the window. The sound of bells permeates the air. “Fire department coming.” 

“Just as well.” Serafine cleans her knife and stows it away. “‘Bout time we get a move on.”


	14. Interlude

Calvin stands in the yard with a rake, gazing up into the sky. It’s a full moon. He leans the rake against the porch and goes inside, then dials the phone. It just rings and rings. 

His mother is knitting in the parlor. He goes back outside. Picks up the rake. Doesn’t use it- just stands there. 

His cousin has been missing for a week now. No one at Lackadaisy is worried. They keep reassuring him, confident Rocky will come back. He’s done this before, they say. He’s fine. But Calvin knows something they don’t. He knows where Rocky had been just before he disappeared. It was in the letter. 

Date with four-eyes at Marigold. 

Calvin tightens his grip on the rake until his knuckles turn white. He has to do something. His cousin could be dead by now. And if he was, well, not only would that suck, but then Calvin would never get his dad’s stuff back. Then he’ll end up dead, too. His mother will kill him.

He drops the rake and goes inside. 

“I’m going for a walk,” he tells her. 

“At this hour?” 

“I feel restless.” 

“All right, then. Don’t be too long.”

He puts his hat on and goes.


	15. Telephone

A few days after the fire incident, when the Savoys first began to have misgivings regarding their ward, they get a call that just makes things worse. 

“What do you mean, a delay?” Serafine scowls, a cigarette dangling from her lower lip. “...Well, you’d better get here. My brother and I tire of babysitting.” A pause, after which she sighs in annoyance. “Yes, he’s still alive, I already tol’ you. Yes, he’s fine.” A pause. “No, you can’ talk to him. He’s... busy.” 

She glances towards the bathroom where Rocky is busy throwing up. One of the girls, Zulie, probably, is patting his back. 

On the other end of the line, Mordecai’s voice has fallen deadly. “You say that every time.” 

“ _Mais_ , it’s true. An’ you only call twice.” 

“Where is he? You’re lying. I’m going to find out.” 

“You breaking up.” 

“Sera-”

She hangs the phone up, knowing he won’t call back. He’s busy, too. 

“What news?” Nico manifests at her shoulder. She exhales smoke, eyes narrowed.

“‘Nother week.” 

Nico groans. “Yesterday he bit one de girls.” 

“What you wan’ to do? We can’t jus’ throw him to the street!” 

“Forget dis bargain. It’s not worth it.” 

“No!” she snaps. “Just give him some more de colorful ones. He takes dem himself now.” 

“Fuck,” Nico growls. He moves away, then comes back, leaning in close. “When le hache come to get him, he will go into withdrawals. He’ll know.” 

As if she hadn’t thought of that already. “Don’t worry abou’ dat! Jus’ don’ let him bite anyone else.” 

“We keep giving him all the good stuff.”

Her voice rises and she gestures furiously. “Jus’ get more!” 

She glares into space, empty of all patience, as he leaves her, muttering, “easier said than done.”

 

*

 

As suspected, it’s a solid week before Mordecai can make it back. That’s fifteen days total he was gone. He’s long since become numb to the guilt, the terror. What’s waiting for him back at Marigold? Can Rocky possibly still be alive?

He knows better than to hope, but at the very least, he won’t accept the worst until he’s seen it for himself.

He disembarks the train with nothing in his hands. He’d lost his luggage within the first three days and feels lucky to still have his gun.

 

*

 

A yellow cab pulls up to the Maribel. As Mordecai gets out and enters the lobby, he isn’t aware someone is watching him.

He checks in with Asa first. 

“There’s my hatchet man,” he chortles upon seeing him. “Place was quiet without you.” 

“I have completed my mission.” 

“Good.” Asa pauses, his tone shifting. “You got the, ah...?”

Mordecai extracts a gold ring from his pocket and drops it into Asa’s hand. He turns it over and over, smiling. 

“Good work,” he says. “Go on. Go have a drink. Find yourself a girl to dance with. You’re into that, right?”

“Actually, I’m rather exhausted. I believe a good night’s sleep is in order.” 

“I’m not surprised. This little endeavor of ours lasted longer than we expected, huh? I was starting to think you were dead. Why didn’t you call me?” 

“Access to a telephone was very limited.” 

“You couldn’t figure out one phone call?” Asa grins at him. “You’re not lying, are you? Got some little girlfriend you’d rather call than me?” 

“No.” 

“Boyfriend, perhaps.” 

“No. If it’s all the same, Mr. Sweet-” 

“Ehh, no need to be ashamed of what you are, kid.”

Mordecai frowns. “No, that’s not what I-” 

“Speaking of, that little boytoy of yours is dead. I had ‘im iced first thing after you left.” Asa leans back in his massive chair, lighting a fresh cigar and grinning in a way that makes Mordecai feel sick. “Figured you don’t need any distractions from your work. But if you’re makin’ phone calls to randies, makes me wonder if there’s something else I could have done to make sure. He’s not still alive, is he? Or have you found someone else already?” 

Mordecai is silent. His heart is hammering. Asa watches him for a moment, then chuckles. 

“Go on. Get some sleep.”

As Mordecai is leaving, he adds, “it’s for your own good, you know. Gotta stay alert in this business. You lose focus for even a moment, you die, and there’s no telling who you can really trust. He was just going to stab you in the back one day. Just think of it like... I just saved your life.” A silence. “Well? Don’t I deserve a thank you?”

Mordecai’s hands are twitching. He squeezes them shut. “Thank you, Mr. Sweet.”

“Hey, anytime, fella. Anytime.”

 

*

 

Mordecai can hear the music playing before he’s even in front of their door. When Nico sees him, his face lights up.  

“Peekon!” He leans against the doorframe. “I could hug you.” 

“That’s not necessary.” Mordecai’s voice is cold and hard despite the fact that his arms and legs feel like jelly. “I’m here for Rocky. Where is he?”

Nico’s smile fades, and he makes a grimacing face that Mordecai doesn’t fail to overanalyze. “We didn’t know when you was coming.” He turns. “Angel. Le chaton.” 

A chorus of voices responds as Mordecai enters and Nico shuts the door behind him.

“Le chaton!” 

“Where is le chaton?” 

“I don’t know, who had him last?” 

“There he is- behind the sofa!”

Mordecai’s heart thumps as he follows the direction indicated. Rocky is slumped over with his chin in his chest. At first, he is certain he isn’t breathing. 

“Rocky?” He kneels in front of him. Touches his shoulder. “Rocky. It’s Mordecai.”

Rocky lifts his head, and it takes him a few seconds to focus on Mordecai’s face. When he finally does, he smiles and throws his arms around him. “Mordecai!” His breath tickles his ear. “I missed you.”

Mordecai can’t believe it. He pulls back, touching Rocky’s face as if to ensure he’s really there, not just a figment of his imagination. “Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine.” Rocky smiles. “Your friends throw awesome parties. Have you met Luz and Damian? Oh, and you still owe me a dance! We simply must celebrate- you’re back!” He kisses Mordecai’s face and hugs him again. “I missed you so much.” 

Nico and Serafine are standing over them, watching. Mordecai falters just a moment before looking at them. “Thank you.”

It’s a curt acknowledgement, but a genuine one, and the siblings exchange uncertain glances, sharing the same notion: that if they’re lucky, it’ll still be a while before he realizes he shouldn’t have given it.


	16. Calvin

Someone is waiting for them in the hallway. It takes both Rocky and Mordecai an equally long time to recognize him.

“Freckle.” Rocky’s eyes are wide. “You’re not supposed to be here.” 

“Neither are you.” 

“But you’re really not supposed to be here.” 

“Where have you been?” Calvin cuts his eyes to Mordecai, then back to Rocky. “Here? With him?” 

“Ahem.” Mordecai interjects. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. My name is Mordecai.” 

There is a short, awkward pause before Calvin answers, “Calvin.”

Rocky grins at Mordecai. “You can call him Freckle.”

As they walk towards the elevator, Calvin frowns, watching Rocky closely. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

Rocky has had a limp ever since the incident with Serafine. He forgot all about it; he hasn’t moved in a while. “Accident.” 

“Why are you dressed like that?” 

“It was a themed party.” 

Calvin steps in front of him suddenly, scrutinizing. “Are you high?” 

“What?” Mordecai frowns. “Why would he be high?” 

“Look at his eyes.” Calvin snaps in Rocky’s face, and Rocky flinches. 

“Stop.”

“Rocky.” Mordecai is apalled. “Did you take anything?” 

“Maybe.” 

“What and how much?” Mordecai’s heart starts to pound as, the more he looks at Rocky, the more it sinks in that it’s true. He’s high as a kite. Why didn’t he notice before?

“I dunno. I can’t remember.” 

“Wait here.” Mordecai turns. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Wait,” Calvin protests. “Where are you going?” 

“Just to ask a few questions. It’ll just be a moment.”

 He leaves them standing there.

 

*

 

Upon Mordecai’s insistence, they show him their stash. They have everything- heroin, cocaine, acid, mushrooms- the works. It’s all out on the coffee table and Mordecai stares at it, almost impressed, for a long time before saying anything.

“You must realize the deal is off.”

Before he is even finished speaking, the Savoys are outraged.

“We did all we could!” Serafine cries. “He is crazy, dat one. Every time he sober up, he try to escape. An’ we can’ let him near anyt’ing flammable or he light it up. An’ he bite. You lucky we didn’ drop him off at the same loony bin where we picked up his decoy.” 

“Is that what you ended up doing?” 

“ _Mais_ , it worked, didn’t it?” Nico exhales smoke into Mordecai’s face, clearly pissed off with him. “Then we dress him up as one our own so no one come up here and recognize him.” 

“You put him in a dress.” 

“He looks good, no? You didn’ recognize him at first.” 

“This is deplorable,” Mordecai says, and he means it. “I want a comprehensive list of every drug you shot him up with. And what the hell did you do to his leg?” 

“Acciden’,” Serafine defiantly retorts.  

“Is that so.” Mordecai’s eyes narrow. He’s always hated the Savoys, but never in the way he does now- with a thirst, with a vengeance. If they realize this, however, they don’t let on. 

“You owe us, peekon, for more than just our time. He cost us in plenty more dan dat.” 

He swishes his tail, silent for one tense moment. When he speaks, his tone is calm. “What else did you do to him while I was gone?” 

“Nothing. Jus’ what you see.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“We’re sure.”

“Swear it. Swear it on your heathen religion- on each other- on everything you own.”

The Savoys exchange glances, then fall silent. Mordecai turns to leave. 

“The deal is off.”

 

*

 

Calvin puts Rocky’s arm around his shoulder, supporting him. “Come on.” 

Rocky resists. “What are you doing?” 

“Now’s our chance to escape.” 

“But Mordecai’s here. Everything’s going to be all right.” 

“No, it’s not!” Calvin’s voice rises insistently. “This whole thing is his fault. I know you don’t get it now, but he hurt you.” 

“Calvin.” Rocky doesn’t know what to say, and Calvin doesn’t make it easier by pleading with him, those big brown eyes doing  anywhere from ninety-nine to one hundred percent of the legwork.  

“Rocky. Just listen to me this one time. Please?”

They stare at each other. Finally, Rocky nods.

They make their way toward the elevator.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

“I know.” 

“How’d you find me?” 

Calvin presses the button. “I’ll tell you later.”

It’s at that exact moment Mordecai exits the Savoys’ room. His eyes meet Calvin’s  instantly, but he can only stare in surprise as the doors slide shut, blocking them off from each other.

Instead, he takes to the stairs (though his legs feel like lead) and arrives just as they’re exiting the lobby. He follows them out onto the street. 

“Wait!” 

“Just leave us alone, okay?!”

Calvin’s words, shouted viciously over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes cause the wound in Mordecai’s arm to smart as if it has a memory of its own. It’s such a nasty shock that he stops dead, the astonishment on his face illuminated by Maribel’s vibrant electric sign, and can do nothing but watch them vanish into the bustling crowd of people seeking warmth and amusement in the darkness of the night.


	17. You Didn’t

The first time Mordecai visits Lackadaisy again, he can almost believe everything is back to normal. As fortune would have it, Rocky is there alone. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

Rocky smiles at him. “Of course I am.” 

“But you’ve been pumped full of psychedelics for weeks.” 

“Exactly. Weeks. Not years. I’ll be fine.” 

Mordecai swishes his tail, avoiding Rocky’s gaze. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Your cousin is right. It was all my fault.” 

“What? Freckle?” Rocky waves a hand dismissively. “The lad means well, but he’s not exactly well versed on these types of subjects.” 

“He’s right anyway.”

They change the subject to something innocuous. Flirt and snicker over cups of tea. Sit in silence, each so close to the other they can hear his heartbeat. Just like old times.

 

*

 

A week passes. Rocky isn’t here this time, and Mordecai’s short-lived delusion that everything has gone back to normal, is, well, short-lived. He takes off his hat as the tinkling bell announces his entrance and Ivy and Calvin, sitting on either side of the counter, turn to look at him.

Calvin quickly looks away. Ivy simply stares, like Mordecai is back from the dead. “Oh my god.” 

He sets his hat down on the countertop. “Good afternoon.” 

Ivy is speechless. Calvin doesn’t look up. His fingers twitch anxiously. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Where’s Rocky?” No one answers him. He sighs and sits down. “Coffee.”

Ivy goes. Calvin is left alone with Mordecai, but he still doesn’t look at him; indeed, he is now going to great lengths to avoid it. “Why are you here?” 

“I need to see your brother.” 

“Cousin.”

Mordecai frowns, surprised. “Oh.” 

An awkward silence ensues.

“He’s in the garage.” Calvin swishes his tail, curls it close to himself. “They had to lock him in. He’s been there about a day now. He kept having these episodes... Mitzi doesn’t know about it. You can’t tell her.” 

“Of course.” Mordecai doesn’t mention he hasn’t been on speaking terms with her in some time. He hesitates. “What sort of episodes?” 

“Seeing stuff. Manic. Y’know, happy one second, down the next. And he keeps trying to light the tables on fire.”

“I see.” Mordecai feels empty, cold.

“Mostly just the band knows.” Calvin trembles. “It was Zib who thought to lock him up til he’s clean. And Horatio knows. And Viktor.” 

Emotional support was never Mordecai’s forte, and, luckily, or perhaps appropriately, nothing he did with Rocky ever required that. He’s not comfortable trying to console Calvin when he starts crying and can only think to pat his back gingerly. “Um... there, there.” 

“I don’t know why I’m crying.” Calvin wipes his eyes. “He’s always been manic anyway. But when he didn’t show up for two whole weeks, I was sure he was dead. I thought you killed him. I went to Marigold to kill you.”

A chill seems to settle over the room. Mordecai thinks back to that night and recalls the long trenchcoat Calvin had been wearing, the perfect thing to conceal a firearm. He never thought to search him, not even for a second. 

“Then I saw you with him. I couldn’t believe he was alive. But he was hurt.” Calvin finally looks up, and his eyes, like a child’s, are almost just as likely to kill him as any gun to fall into his hands during one of his rages. “You could’ve saved him. But you didn’t.”

Ivy comes back. She has tea for herself and Calvin and coffee for Mordecai. Pretending not to notice her boyfriend pretending not to cry, she slips into the stool next to him. 

“Are you here to kill Viktor?” she asks. Mordecai doesn’t entirely succeed to suppress a smile. 

“No.” 

“Good.”


	18. Viktor

They sit in silence until, a few minutes later, a commotion outside draws their attention. Rocky bursts through the door, sending the bell jangling loudly in alarm. The moment his eyes light on Mordecai, he grins. 

“Ah! The apple of my eye!” 

Mordecai stares at him as he approaches. “Rocky.”

“Dear heart. Miss Pepper.” He nods to her. “And what’s this?” Noticing Calvin, Rocky’s smile fades, and he leans in front of him to try and meet his eyes, only to realize he is crying. “Freckle! You’ve got something on your face. It’s sadness.”

Calvin doesn’t answer. Rocky looks questioningly at Ivy, who leans across the counter to whisper. “I don’t know. He was like that when I came back with the tea.”

The bell jangles again, the second forceful misuse threatening to break it. Viktor fills the doorway. Rocky scrambles to hide behind the counter, but Viktor, moving stiffly, is fast enough to stop him, seizing him by the suspenders and pulling him back down. 

“Should not be in here,” he growls. 

“Why? There’s no customers.” 

“Are not sober yet.” 

“Yes I am!” Rocky tries to reassure his cousin despite being locked in Viktor’s angry, viselike grip. “Or... nearly. I’m not hallucinating anymore. My dreams are as boring as sand.” 

“Viktor, let him go, for god’s sake.” 

Silence falls as Viktor notices Mordecai for the first time. He leans in to squint at him, then growls. “Vhat you doing here.” 

“I came to see Rocky.” Mordecai returns Viktor’s menacing stare with his own cold, unfeeling gaze.

“Vhy.”

He doesn’t answer, but he may as well, because with one glance at Rocky Viktor immediately catches on to everything there is to know. 

“Ehh,” he snarls, turning toward the door, pulling Rocky with him. “Back to garage with you.” 

“I said let him go, Viktor, for the love of god. You’re always such a heathen.” 

“Vhat?” Viktor feigns innocence. “Is for his own good.” 

“It cannot possibly be for his own good. When’s the last time he had any water?” 

There’s another silence as everyone in the room except for Mordecai exchanges glances. They don’t know, not one of them, not even Rocky. Mordecai sighs, wondering, not for the first time, if he’s the only lucid human being on the planet. “Miss Pepper. A glass of water, if you will.” 

“No water.” 

“Yes water, Viktor. Now can you please let him go before I start to lose my patience.” 

“Vhere you have been all week? You always have such strict policy for clean up your mess. But look like this one for you doesn’t count.” He pushes Rocky forward, making him stumble. “Or maybe working for Marigold really change you that much.” 

“If you’re trying to accuse me of being irresponsible, you may take into consideration that I have other places to be right now. I didn’t have to come- at least, not for impersonal reasons.”

Viktor’s laugh booms like thunder. “How heartfelt! Careful, or you vill writing love letters next.” 

“I don’t see why you have to be such a jackass about it,” Mordecai snaps, cheeks flushing. “It’s none of your business.” 

“You tell him yet how you tend to shoot anyone who fall in love with you?” 

“It isn’t like that!” 

“Vhat? Is casual? Ehh. That always how it start.”

Mordecai’s stool scrapes back loudly. On his feet, he stares Viktor down. 

“Let him go before I make you. As if they still need you around here. And many people will be happy to see you dead.”

Viktor leans in, snarling. “All of sudden you care for happiness of others. Is that why you indulge pancake boy in such things as narcotics? Such abuse is equal to caring from one so isolated as you. You really haff not change at all.” 

“Take your jealousy somewhere else. I haven’t the patience nor time.” 

“Too busy tying men to railroad tracks? Careful not to get blood on shoes.” 

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” Mordecai takes Rocky’s arm pointedly. “Now, for the last time...”

But he doesn’t need to ask. Viktor simply lets go. Before leaving, he has one final word.

“Caring, from you, always result in grievous injury. Is how you fend off vulnerability. Like tiger- like demon that you are. Baffle science. Something to do with brain.” 

There’s a tense pause, then Mordecai frigidly says, “it’s been good catching up.” 

“Ehhh.” Viktor turns. The bell tinkles softly upon his leaving.

Ivy has returned with the water. She sighs, watching Viktor through the window. “Now he’s gonna be all upset. Why’d you have to argue with him, Mordecai?” 

“Me?” Mordecai is indignant. “He started it!”

They fall to bickering. Fixing his suspenders, Rocky takes the seat on Freckle’s right, recently vacated by Ivy. “Something seems to be on your mind. Why don’t you tell your favorite cousin all about it?”

Calvin fidgets, not looking up. He used the distraction of Viktor’s arrival to remove all traces of tears from his face. “It’s nothing.” 

“If you say so.” Rocky picks up Calvin’s tea, which he hasn’t touched. “Doesn’t Miss Pepper know you’re a chocolate milk kinda guy?”

“I guess not.” 

“Well, that’s remediable.” Rocky hesitates. “Hey, you got any paper? I been takin’ this time to work on my written poetry. Inspiration’s a funny thing. You can substitute stimulants, sure, but I find the art is never as good in that case. That’s why I’m swearing ‘em off.” He grins. “You’ll never see me try to light myself on fire again. Or, uh, well, if you do, it won’t be because I took something.” A pause in which he nudges Calvin, gently coaxing him. “All right?” 

And though Calvin still doesn’t look up, Rocky can tell he feels just a little bit better when he smiles. “All right.” 


	19. The Reason

“Good. You finished your tea.” Ivy tugs Calvin to his feet. “Come on. We’re gonna check on Viktor.”

They leave and it falls quiet. Mordecai is aware of Rocky smiling vacantly at the floor, trying in vain to think of something to say. He takes mercy on him and breaks the awkward silence himself. “You lied to me.” When he gets no response, he continues flatly. “You said you were going to be all right.” 

“You lied to me, too.” Rocky’s smile is fixed in place, like a doll’s. “You said you were coming back.” 

“I did come back.” 

“You were late.” Rocky closes his eyes. “They didn’t like that. I remember now.” 

“I never should have trusted them.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

Mordecai frowns, surprised. “You are?”  

“Yeah. I am.” Rocky extends his arm, fist closed, and places the opposite hand over the crook of his elbow. It had bled every time they stuck him. “If they hadn’t offered to take care of me, I’d be dead right now.” 

“I suppose that’s true.” 

“Because god knows you wouldn’t have saved me.”

A brief silence, then, softer. “I suppose that’s true.” 

“I’m not mad at you.” Rocky opens his eyes. “Or maybe I am. I dunno. It’s hard to be honest. You and I never talked about feelings before. It makes me think, why start now?” He turns to gaze out of the window. “It’s all over anyway.”

Mordecai thinks, _this must be one of the lows Calvin was talking about._ “So it’s over?” 

“It’s been over since the start.” Rocky crosses his arms, sighing, his smile gone. “I wanted to hug you and smile at you and save you from your past, little by little, every day, even if it was going to take a lifetime. Even if it killed me. I wouldn’t have minded.” 

Mordecai believes him. “Rocky.” He can’t face him when he asks it, but he needs to know nonetheless. “You don’t value your own life, do you?” Rocky is silent. He goes on. “I know you don’t. You never have. That’s why you were never scared of me.”

“What’s your point?” 

“I just want to know- what made you change your mind? I can see it in you. You found something to live for.” Mordecai surprises himself, but not Rocky, with a bitter laugh. “Something that’s not me.” 

Rocky shakes his head. “It’s not that I found it. I’ve always had it. I just forgot about it for a while.” 

“Because of me?” Mordecai guesses, only half serious, but his heart skips a beat at the look Rocky gives him, the first not-smile he’s ever seen him wear.

“Because of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re reading this, thank you so much! If you enjoyed it, please comment and let me know. I plan to extend this work into a series with at least two parts, the second being a direct continuation of this one. I would simply like to warn anyone interested that its themes are going to be a little more mature, and the ending less open and perhaps a bit more tragic. The reason I’m splitting them into two is so that this story, “I Would Do Anything To Feel Alive,” can either be read as a stand-alone fic or together with its sequel.
> 
> Stay tuned for more Rocky/Mordecai, some Viktor/Mordecai, and just buckets and buckets of Freckle. How’s he handling all this, anyway?
> 
> Thanks again!


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